


Going Native

by therobotjane



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time with an Elf, First Time with an Orc, Rough Sex, Scent Marking, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:06:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6105853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therobotjane/pseuds/therobotjane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commander Eridreyn Dawnsorrow, blood elf priest of the Light, finds herself intrigued by the newest addition to her garrison's forces. Morketh Bladehowl, Blackrock orc and Iron Horde defector, finds his new leader much more welcoming than he could have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Native

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know, Warlords of Draenor is old news but I just came back home to WoW and bought it. So sue me.
> 
> After three days of illness, and therefore nonstop playing, I decided to take a break to write...this. Shameless self-insertion (my player character Belf is an unabashed Mary Sue) and perhaps TMI about my feelings toward orcs.
> 
> If any of you play and want to RP or just say hi, feel free to hit me up: Eridreyn @ The Scryers

If she was honest with herself, Eridreyn Dawnsorrow first felt an attraction to the orc during their raid on the Gordunni encampment. Morketh’s passion for battle and skill as both a warrior and tactician were...appealing. Together, they had stormed the encampment, slain the ogre viziers, then snuck past the magical barriers to confront the Witch Lord Morkurk. She was thankful for Morketh’s foresight in suggesting that they take out the viziers first, so that they couldn’t rush to their leader’s aid. That strategy likely saved both of their lives. 

When the Witch Lord lay dead at their feet, Morketh had clapped Eridreyn on the back with a hearty, “Fine work, Commander!” and his mask had crinkled in a way that indicated a smile. 

A couple of goblin-driven ‘copters came in response to the flares that Morketh lit, carrying them back to Vol’jin’s Pride. 

***

Upon landing, Beastmaster Tagh salutes as usual. “Throm-ka, Commander.”

“Throm-ka, Beastmaster,” Eridreyn replies with a smile and a salute of her own. It was still strange, being the commander of such a large and diverse force, especially after years of simply running errands at the Warchief’s behest. As much as she respects Warchief Vol’jin (and she does; he’s a far sight better than Garrosh had been), Eridreyn had been honored to be asked by Thrall to accompany him on the mission to stop the Iron Horde. 

She turns to find Morketh Bladehowl watching with mild interest. He always seems slightly amused when she has to interact with her orcish followers. Eridreyn does her best to pronounce their words correctly and treat all of her followers with respect, despite their cultural differences. Her people, the blood elves, were not well-liked throughout the Horde, truth be told.

Crossing the small outpost of Vol’jin’s Pride, she approaches Morketh. A traitor to the Iron Horde and a member of the Blackrock clan, he wasn’t very well-liked either. 

To his credit, he snaps to attention and salutes, with a gruff, “Commander.”

“Morketh,” she replies, with a curious tilt of her head. As an afterthought, she reaches up and pulls off her helmet, a gruesome thing that completely covers her face with the likeness of a grinning skull. Shaking out her coppery hair, she smiles. “My apologies.”

Morketh grunts slightly in acknowledgement before saying, “Sir, I’ve been able to outfit your soldiers here but I’d like to do more.”

“More?”

“Yes, sir.” Morketh stands perhaps a little straighter, his chin tilted upward with pride. “I’d be deeply honored if you would let me work for you in your main garrison.”

Eridreyn chuckles slightly. “Really.”

“Sir.” 

Morketh doesn’t seem inclined to argue his case and Eridreyn respects him more for it. There are few things worse than boasting or wheedling. Words are empty things; to let yourself be judged on your actions alone is far more honorable.

“So be it. I have to finish up this business with Auchindoun but I will meet you in Frostwall to discuss your future with my troops. Please, speak to Mo’jimba and fly there straightaway.” 

“As you say, Commander. Lok’tar,” Morketh says, saluting once again.

“Lok’tar, Morketh,” Eridreyn replies with a smile, thinking that the orcish words were beginning to slide off her tongue with more ease. 

She watches the broad-shouldered beast of an orc follow her orders, heading directly to the flightmaster and mounting one of the tamed rylaks. 

A soft clearing of a throat at her shoulder causes Eridreyn to fall into a battle stance, shielding herself with holy energy. To her chagrin, it is only Dranarus, a Blood Knight that has been loitering around Vol’jin’s Pride for days. He snickers. 

She waves off the guards that had rushed over upon seeing her cast a spell. “Knight-Lord,” she says with a bit of sourness, “I thought I requested that you not sneak up on me. You are a Blood Knight, not a thief.”

Dranarus smirks. “Certainly, Commander. Or should I say it in orcish, as you seem to be going native?”

“Ah yes, the grand blood elf tradition of treating other species as inferiors. How charming it is to see it alive and well in my ranks. Do you have any idea of the amount of work I’ve had to do to get these people to trust me?”

“Oh goodness, you’re even calling them _people_ now. Next thing you know, you’ll be helping the Alliance.” 

“And if I do, it will be no business of yours, Knight-Lord. Some threats are bigger than Horde or Alliance. Warchief Thrall has always known this, you would do well to learn it.” Eridreyn’s words became clipped in her irritation.

“Merely Thrall, Commander. He is Warchief no more.” Dranarus grins, knowing of Eridreyn’s loyalty to Thrall.

“You will watch your tone when you speak of him in my presence or I will personally see to it that you are sent back to Azeroth in disgrace. If you think that I won’t strip you of your newly earned title simply out of familiarity, you are drastically mistaken, _Dranarus_.” She turns to walk away, before tossing over her shoulder, “And you will treat my followers with respect, regardless of their race.”

His face flushed with anger, Dranarus manages through gritted teeth, “As you wish, Commander.”

***

Three days have passed since the Commander sent Morketh ahead to Frostwall. Three days of boredom. Three days of trying to make nice with an entire camp full of people that didn’t trust him. Three long days.

The crazed Laughing Skull orc, Bruto, tries to make conversation with Morketh but it always dissolves into tales of battle. Which isn’t necessarily unwelcome, but Bruto’s tales are all about his time as a gladiator and, as a result, have an undercurrent of sadness and desperation.

Vivianne, a Forsaken mage, also tries to make nice. Her complete lack of concern over Morketh’s treachery is almost more off-putting than the stony silence coming from the Frostwolves in the garrison. 

Morketh, after pacing the outside perimeter for the thousandth time, sinks into a chair near the fire. It’s cold here. Unpleasantly so. 

Bruto leans forward, the grinning face of his mask disturbing. “Don’t worry, friend. The Commander will be back soon. She always comes back. Never met someone harder to kill.”

Morketh nods, not wanting to betray that he was, in fact, a little worried. How long could it possibly take to clear out a few warlocks, especially with the help of the blood elf and draenei forces at Auchindoun? “It wouldn’t be so bad if I had something to do.”

Bruto nods enthusiastically. “Yes, the missions don’t run themselves but without the Commander, there aren’t any missions.”

“A mission would be nice. Or a forge.”

“Heads to smash and smiles to carve! I remember one time, in the arena…”

Bruto is cut short as a strange-looking dragon, all purplish-blue with almost moth-like wings comes circling down to land near the tauren flightmaster, Bron. Commander Eridreyn swings her legs over the side of the weird beast, hopping down to the dirt path below. She pats the dragon-creature on its flank and it takes off once again, winging its way east. 

As the various members of the garrison begin to clamor for her attention, Eridreyn holds up her hands and laughs. “Yes, I know, I know. I’ll hand out assignments and handle the work orders in a moment. Allow me to drop off these supplies, lighten my packs, and wash the demon blood off and I will be right with you all.”

A wave of acquiescence comes from the troops. 

Eridreyn swings her bulging pack off of her shoulder. “I should get Khadgar to make me a magic bag, while we’re still on the same side…” she mutters to herself, rolling her shoulders to loosen the muscles. She looks up to see Morketh still lingering about. 

“Ah, Morketh, just the orc I wanted to see. Will you do me a favor and meet me in my quarters? I think we have some things to discuss.” 

Morketh’s brows draw together over his yellowish eyes. “As you say, Commander.”

Kal’gor, one of the Frostwolf orcs, interjects. “Is that wise, Commander?”

“What do you mean?” Eridreyn asks, giving as much attention as she can while sorting through her pack, apparently separating junk to be melted down or repurposed from items of more value. 

“Sir, I do not mean to question your decision to invite him here, but he is of the Blackrock clan _and_ a traitor.” The expression on Kal’gor’s face is completely hidden by the wolf’s head he wears but the disgust is plain in his voice.

Putting down a set of bracers that shine with a bluish glow, Eridreyn turns to appraise her troops. “I see. Kal’gor, everyone, I will tell you this: you are not wrong. Morketh is of the Blackrock clan. He did fight for and arm the Iron Horde.” She raises her hands placatingly as a grumble comes from the orcs present. “And, yes, he did defect. He came to me to restore his honor and he has done so. I have fought by his side and trusted him with my life. I do not expect you to do the same. I do not control your hearts or minds. But I do ask that you respect my wisdom as your Commander. Morketh Bladehowl is one of ours now.”

Kal’gor snaps to attention, pounding his chest with one fist. The other Frostwolves follow suit. Morketh lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Morketh, my quarters, if you please. I will meet you there straightaway.”

Without waiting to see if her orders would be obeyed, Eridreyn turns toward the small lumber mill.

***

After turning over the resources collected across Talador, handing off her equipment for much-needed repairs, and giving out mission directives to the troops, Eridreyn retreats to the only private bathing facility in the camp: the one on the same floor of the barracks as her quarters. It takes several minutes of scrubbing to get all of the sticky, foul-smelling, green demon blood off of the swatches of skin left exposed by her robes. There were certainly pros and cons to not having to wear full armor; she could move much more easily, confident in being protected by the Light, but it did leave a bit to be desired in the not-getting-covered-in-ichor department. Rinsing out her hair with rosewater, she steps out of the makeshift shower and dries with the softest towel this side of the Dark Portal. That is to say, one that isn’t actually made of burlap. 

Pulling on a soft robe of her own design, made with the last reserves of mageweave that she had bought with her through the Portal, Eridreyn turns to her quarters. The troll guards nod to her and one comments, “An orc is in dere waitin’ for ya, Commander-mon. He said you was askin’ for ‘im, so we let ‘im through but we can remove ‘im just as easy, if ya be needin’ it.”

“Thank you but he was invited. He’s new to the garrison and we need to discuss his duties.”

“Whatever you say, Commander-mon.”

Opening her door, Eridreyn is thrilled to see that Morketh took it upon himself to start a fire. Noticing her gaze, he shuffles a bit. “It’s really cold here,” he says.

“Oh, I agree. Hateful weather, honestly. If I didn’t respect my adopted Frostwolf brethren so much, I’d move the entire operation somewhere warmer.” Eridreyn smiles and sits down on the edge of her uncomfortable bed, the pile of animal furs only sinking slightly under her weight. 

Still standing and clearly bracing himself to say what’s on his mind, Morketh says in a rush, “Commander, I don’t want to seem demanding but I’ve noticed you don’t even have a proper forge here and, well, what good is a weaponsmith with no forge?”

Eridreyn waves one hand, dismissively. “So we’ll build you one.”

“Commander?”

With a small sigh, she gestures toward a chair. “If you please, Morketh, sit down. You have no idea how tiresome it is looking up at people twice my height all day. Leaves quite a crink in the neck. So spare me and have a seat.”

Morketh shrugs and sinks into a chair, his armor creaking and clinking with the movement. 

“Much better. You have my thanks. Now, as I was saying, we will build you a forge as soon as we have the resources to do so. It will be built to your specifications. Is that reasonable?”

“More than reasonable, Commander.”

“As you said, there isn’t much point to keeping on a weaponsmith if he has no means to make weapons. Now, I do regret that I have no experience in the realm of blacksmithing, myself. You will have to tell me your needs.”

Morketh’s eyes rake over his Commander’s slight form and he swallows, forcibly pulling his mind out of the gutter. “My needs, Commander?”

She makes that airy, dismissive gesture again, waving one hand. “Tools, materials, resources, that type of thing. Whatever you need, it will be yours. Talador and the Spires of Arak are filthy with raw materials so it shan’t take long, I think.”

“You honor me, Commander.”

“We honor each other, Morketh. You fought by my side and likely saved my life in the fight against that ogre Witch Lord. You’ve sworn yourself to my service. The least I can do to repay you is make sure that you have the tools necessary to make the weapons you love so well.” Eridreyn smiles again, her glowing green eyes twinkling in the firelight. 

“You gave me back my honor, Commander. You owe me nothing.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps I wish to maintain your loyalty. Perhaps I merely enjoy your company. Would that be such a sin?”

Morketh doesn’t respond immediately and Eridreyn rolls to her feet in one smooth motion. Even standing, she’s barely taller than the seated orc. She strides across the space between them, stopping just shy of touching his knee. 

“Perhaps we could come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement.” 

Morketh can’t ignore the fact that his body is responding to the closeness of his Commander any longer, though he is thankful that his armor hides it. Had it really been that long since he’d laid with anyone?

“Agreed. I fight for your cause and provide your army with weapons. You give me sanctuary, respect, and a place for my work.”

Eridreyn reaches out her hands, then pauses. “Morketh, may I remove your mask? I like to look into the faces of the people I’m dealing with, when possible.”

“Commander, I can…”

“Allow me, if you please,” she says, reaching behind the orc’s head and untying the mask with her deft fingers. She pulls it away and sets it on the chest of drawers, revealing Morketh’s face in full. Large lower teeth, almost tusks, protrude from his mouth, crossing his top lip and nearly reaching his wide nose. His dark yellow eyes meet hers for a moment, then snap straight ahead.

“If I may say so without overstepping my position, you are quite handsome.” The words are soft and when Morketh looks up in surprise, he realizes that she is serious.

Eridreyn blushes a bit at her own boldness but stays close. With some bewilderment, she realizes that she’s serious, too. 

“Thank you, Commander. That is kind of you to say.”

With a bit of a smirk, she adds, “While I do appreciate the mutually beneficial arrangement that we already have, that wasn’t exactly what I was referring to.”

“Commander?”

“You had mentioned having an interest in fine weapons, yes? Having fought by my side, can you attest that there is a finer weapon than myself?” Giving a small pirouette that causes her robe to twirl, Eridreyn gestures at herself.

“No, Commander. You are quite deadly. Surprisingly so.”

“You flatter me.” She looks thoughtful for a moment. “Unless, of course, you already have a mate? I wouldn’t want to step in the way of an existing partnership.”

Morketh’s small eyes go a little wide. “No, sir. I don’t have a mate. Nor will I, since I am outcast from my own clan.”

“I see. Perhaps, then, you are only attracted to orcish females? I could hardly blame you if that were the case.”

“Commander, I don’t see where you’re going with this line of questions. None of these things impact my ability to serve as your weaponsmith and…”

Eridreyn reaches out a hand and caresses Morketh’s cheek, as softly as a moth’s feet. “Is that all you’d like to be, Morketh?”

Her touch an invitation, Morketh places his large hand on her slender back. “Commander, I don’t think that it would be a good idea to pursue anything of that sort.”

“Why, may I ask? And I would appreciate honesty.”

“I mean no offense, Commander, but you are very small.”

Eridreyn titters and slides onto orc’s wide lap, perching on one muscular thigh. Her weight is so slight that she seems almost insubstantial to him. “And I mean no offense, Morketh, but I spent my morning slaying demons send by the Shadow Council, including a pair of rather nasty infernals that stood perhaps twenty times my height. Though I do appreciate your concern.”

Morketh’s hand moves up her back to her shoulder, his rough thumb stroking the bare skin there. “Sir, have you ever lain with an orc before?”

“No, I haven’t, though I assume your anatomy isn’t so drastically different. Why do you ask?”

“Orcs are not known for their gentle lovemaking techniques.”

Eridreyn’s eyes glow more intensely than usual for a moment before she whispers, “Good.”

Morketh swallows hard, his breath shaking upon his exhalation. “Are you certain, Commander?”

“Please, when we’re alone, call me Eridreyn. And yes, I am quite certain.” Her nimble fingers move to the lacing on the front of his jerkin, opening it. “Have you ever lain with an elf?”

“No, Com-- Eridreyn. I have not.”

“I’ve seen the females of your race. Powerful and impressive, every one. But I assure you, what I lack in sheer muscle, I make up for with enthusiasm.”

Having unlaced the jerkin fully, Eridreyn pulls it wide, baring Morketh’s chest. Her hands run across the exposed green skin. He grunts softly. 

“If...if you’ve never been with an orc, why me?”

“Frankly? You intrigue me. Your lust for battle, your skill with your weapons...you dance when you fight, like a storm of blood and death.” She runs her fingers over one large, dark nipple, drawing a sharp gasp from the orc. 

Using his grip on her shoulder to pull her closer, Morketh mutters, “I thought you were a priest…”

Another tittering, musical laugh escapes Eridreyn’s lips. “If the Light hasn’t turned its back on me for the thousands of lives I’ve taken, it certainly doesn’t begrudge me dalliances. It’s not as if I’m a virgin, after all.”

Morketh nuzzles his face into her neck, his canines rubbing against the sensitive skin. “Of course not. A woman with fire inside her like yourself couldn’t very well hide it away forever.”

“Exactly.” The word comes out as almost a moan, cut short by a knock on the door. Eridreyn pouts and calls, “I am busy.”

“Commander, we wouldn’t interrupt you if it weren’t an emergency! It’s Olin, he’s hurt badly!”

Springing to her feet, Eridreyn spares a shrug for Morketh. “Be waiting when I get back?”

“As you say, Commander,” he replies with a grin as she runs her fingers through her hair on her way to the door. 

Fortunately, they had the good sense to bring Olin to the barracks so no time was lost having to pull on cloaks to traverse the chill outside. After casting a number of healing spells, Eridreyn tells the Frostwolves to make him comfortable so that he can rest. Olin takes her hand and thanks her; she runs a hand across his furry forehead and whispers a spell to put him into a dreamless, restful sleep. As soon as his big, brown eyes close, she turns on the guard.

“Keep him safe. Thank you for fetching me but please only do so for emergencies like this one.”

“Of course, Commander.”

***

When Eridreyn returns to her quarters, she almost expects Morketh to have gotten bored and left. Or fallen asleep. 

The sight she’s greeted with, however, is the orc lying in her bed, wearing nothing but the wrapped linen loincloth he must have had under his armor. The armor itself is in a neat pile next to the bed, clearly removed with care. 

The firelight adds a soft glow to the expanse of dark green muscle, shadows kissing the definition of his muscles. He smiles at her, his hands casually folded behind his head, one knee bent. 

“By the Light,” she whispers.

“Is there something wrong?” Morketh’s brows crinkle with concern.

“Only that I don’t have one of those goblin picture-machines, to capture this view for all time.” She takes a few steps toward the bed, then hesitates. “Before I join you, I must ask, are _you_ certain? I would wholly understand your not being interested in an elf, as I am quite physically distinct from an orcish woman. And please, do not be afraid to offend me in this. Here, I am not your Commander and I wouldn’t like to put anyone into a position they are unwilling to be in out a displaced sense of loyalty.”

Morketh rolls on to his side, one hand propping up his head, the red tattoo across his bicep bulging. “You are a woman of honor, Eridreyn. And I assure you, I’m in your bed quite willingly. But, if I may ask a question of you? In my limited experience with your people, I’ve never met a blood elf willing to treat another race as an equal, much less find them appealing. And I would think, if they were so inclined, it would be a human, or a night elf, perhaps? Never an orc.”

Again the dismissive wave of one hand. “Night elves have their appeal, with their rainbow of skin and hair colors. Humans are interesting on an individual basis but as a species, they are dull. As for my own people, they tend toward being pretentious and boastful. I won’t pretend that I don’t occasionally miss my fine feather bed and my gilded bath of scented water back home, but after so many years in the proverbial trenches? I can’t support the attitudes of many of my brethren. The most honorable person I’ve ever met is an orc.” She shakes her head and smiles. “So while I understand your confusion at my advances, mainly because I’m a bit surprised at your accepting them, I assure you that I find you very appealing.”

Morketh smiles and pats the bed next to him. “Come, then, little elf. Let us see this enthusiasm you speak of.”

Eridreyn’s eyes run down Morketh’s body again, taking in the sight, before widening. The linen loincloth is straining to conceal his member and he’s clearly not even fully erect yet. She reaches up to untie the laces at her shoulders, letting the pale blue mageweave robe drop, pooling at her feet. The massive bulge in Morketh’s loincloth twitches. 

He reaches out one massive hand and circles it around Eridreyn’s waist, pulling her into the bed with him. She wraps one arm around his neck and runs her tongue up one of his tusks, while her free hand caresses his broad, muscular shoulders. Morketh’s massive arms encircle her lithe body, his hands running greedily over her exposed skin.

A hard length presses against Eridreyn’s thigh and she realizes that Morketh’s loincloth lost its battle to contain him. Pushing back, she rests on her knees between his tree-trunk thighs. “Good gracious,” she whispers, taking in the full sight of Morketh’s enormous cock and wondering how on Azeroth she was going to…

“And now you see why I mentioned your small stature, Eridreyn.”

She nods slightly. It was fully the size of her forearm! With veins running up its thick sides...and a glistening drop of fluid at its tip…

Pushing aside her concerns, she leans forward eagerly, licking at the drops of fluid before running her tongue up and down its length. Her breath is coming in small, needy gasps as she says, “I’m sorry...my mouth...isn’t big enough…”

A groan rumbles in Morketh’s chest. He wraps his hand around Eridreyn’s waist again, easily picking her up and laying her on the bed next to him. A bit self-consciously, she wipes at her mouth, wet with her saliva and his fluid. 

“Lie back, little one. Let me show you how an orc treats his mate. Try to relax.” Morketh’s words are thick with need but he doesn’t attempt to enter her. Not yet.

His rough thumbs rub against her nipples, drawing small, pleased noises from her. Then his large hands move to her thighs, spreading them wide. Morketh’s breath brushes against Eridreyn’s most personal places, making her gasp in surprise. He’s sniffing her.

“You smell strange,” he comments. His large tongue swipes her pussy as he tastes her. A contented sound rumbles in his throat. “You taste strange, too. Different from anything I’ve had.” Eridreyn blushes faintly but he adds, “I like it.”

Any embarrassment that she felt is washed away as Morketh’s tongue plunges inside of her, inches deep and stretching her wide, before moving over her clit with such precision that she’s screaming within moments. With her legs still wrapped around his neck, Morketh looks up, grinning. 

Eridreyn realizes that her fingers are lost in the spikes of his hair and she untangles them, running those slender digits over the slight points of his ears. “What was...I don’t…” she mumbles, a little incoherently. 

“Don’t tell me those prissy blood elf boys don’t make sure their mate is satisfied,” Morketh comments, still grinning, pride written on his heavy features.

Eridreyn catches herself thinking back over the number of times she’d lain with a man and not found her own completion. It wasn’t uncommon, honestly. Granted, she’d had better luck in recent years but then, she’d been more discerning. She shakes her head and clears her throat. “I’ve never been with someone that has accomplished it with such focus and efficiency.” 

Morketh makes a small grunt of approval. “You use such polished words, Eridreyn, but all I can hear is ‘you’re the best I’ve ever had, Morketh, do it again’.” 

“While I will admit that you…. _oh_!” Eridreyn’s words cut off as Morketh buries his face between her thighs once again, his thick lips and protruding tusks rubbing against her.

“You’ll admit what, little one?” His words are hot against her.

“By the Light, Morketh! You’re the best I’ve ever had, you prideful beast.” Her thighs squeeze the sides of his head. “Do it again.”

Without hesitation, Morketh’s large tongue is against her again, slower this time. He explores her delicate folds, sucking and licking in all the right places. Almost gently, his tongue slides into her again, his tusks pressing against the outside of her pussy. He nuzzles against her short, coppery curls, grunting with pleasure at how deep he’s able to taste. 

He pulls back, just a little but enough to make Eridreyn whine with need. That small whining noise cuts off with a gasp when one of Morketh’s thick fingers replaces his tongue. Even his fingers are wider than the average elvish man’s...equipment. Once the surprise wears off, Eridreyn finds herself enjoying the feeling. With a pleased nod, Morketh applies his talented tongue to her clit once again, teasing and stroking, while his finger slides in and out. 

Eridreyn’s back arches sharply and Morketh backs off. “Not yet, little one. I need more room,” Morketh says, his breath whispering hot against her pussy, nearly taking her over the edge. A second finger joins the first inside of her body easily, lubricated with her arousal. His tongue flicks against her again, driving a sharp wave of pleasure through her body. Then a third finger eases in, with a bit more of a struggle.

“Am I hurting you?” Morketh asks, his voice carefully controlled.

Eridreyn manages a small laugh. “I thought orcs weren’t known to be gentle lovers?”

He snorts in response. “I said we weren’t gentle, not that I was going to leave you bloodied and torn, little one. That’s why I’m taking my time now, so I can be rough later without concern.”

A small, needy moan escapes the elf’s mouth. “You’re...you’re not hurting...just...don’t stop.”

Groaning happily, Morketh pushes his fingers in deeper, feeling Eridreyn’s body give way. A few more strokes of his tongue have her screaming again, grinding her body against his hand, and he knows that he can’t wait any longer.

Morketh carefully moves Eridreyn’s legs from their vice-grip on his neck, the blood elf still panting below him. He knows he’s stained her furs already with his fluids and he can barely be bothered to care as he smears a sticky trail up her thigh. The head of his cock nudges against her wet, inviting pussy but he refrains. He brushes the hair out of her face and tilts her chin up so her eyes meet his. The green glow that obliterates any sign of a pupil or iris seems somehow fogged over despite burning brighter than he’s ever seen it. 

“Eridreyn?”

A small, shuddering breath. “Yes, Morketh?”

“Are you sure you want to continue?”

Her long, coppery eyebrows draw together. “What are you saying? That you’ve...pleasured me and now you’re willing to leave without giving me the satisfaction of pleasing you in return?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I just need to be sure. You might not like what comes next.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Have you ever seen a warrior taken over with battle fury?” Morketh asks and, when Eridreyn nods, he continues. “Orcs have a similar reaction to mating. If we...if I enter you, I won’t be able to stop until I’m finished. Not without you making me. Violently.”

A shiver chases through Eridreyn’s body, one that could have easily been mistaken for fear. But the orc’s nose, now attuned to her scent, detects nothing but arousal. 

“Violently…” she echoes, her lips parted slightly. She draws a deep, steadying breath. “I’m ready, Morketh.”

“As you say, Commander,” he replies, his words choked.

In one movement, he picks up the blood elf’s small body and turns it over, leaving her face-down on the furs. With one hand, he lifts her hips. The other cups the base of his cock. The only thing he can see, the only thing he’s aware of is the naked, willing body in front of him.

“Last...chance, little one,” he manages, sounding like the words are being ripped from him by force.

A deep, terrible groan tears through him as one dainty elvish hand reaches between those slender thighs and beckons him.

The head of his cock is pushing against her entrance, an entrance that’s not quite wide enough. He grabs her hips and pulls, forcing himself inside of her small body. She lets out a startled yelp but he barely hears it. She’s so hot and so wet...even in his haze, Morketh can tell that she’s struggling to let him in deeper. 

Finally, finally!, he manages to get his entire length inside of the moaning, quivering woman underneath him. A bellow of triumph leaves him, shaking dust from the ceiling. A smaller cry of relief escapes Eridreyn’s lips, though she’s not even aware of it. 

She is completely transported by the sensation of having something so large inside of her. She had expected it to hurt. It did, a little, at first. But now that every inch of Morketh’s massive cock is inside of her, it feels so incredible that she swears to herself that this won’t be a one-time affair.

Morketh easily gathers up both of her slender wrists in his left hand, holding them at the small of her back, bending her into a more appealing position. The other hand closes on the back of her head, tangling in her copper hair and pulling. 

“Much better,” he grunts, followed by a string of Orcish that she doesn’t quite catch. Then, “Present for me, mate. Show me what you need.”

Not thinking, without hesitation, her mind completely fogged with submitting to this large, muscular creature, Eridreyn arches her back as much as possible, spreading herself wide. “Morketh…!” she moans, enraptured. 

He pushes her face down into the furs with the hand in her hair. “Good, little one. Good,” he nearly growls.

Then Morketh’s cock is thrusting in and out the small, elvish body with abandon. He holds Eridreyn still with his massive hands, not letting anything disrupt his punishing rhythm. The bed shakes as he penetrates her again and again.

Eridreyn trembles with pleasure, her breath taken away by the pounding of the orc’s cock deep inside her body. She swears she can feel it hitting her ribs, though she knows that’s not physically possible. At least not without extreme internal trauma. The head of his massive member slams into her insides at just the right angle...to…

She lets out a harsh scream, almost painful-sounding, as her pussy contracts around Morketh’s cock. His only response to her orgasm is a throaty chuckle. 

Mere moments later, another loud, timber-shaking roar comes from the sweating orc. His mouth flies open wide, overlarge teeth glinting in the firelight. One last thrust and he’s pumping his seed inside of her.

Morketh’s huge cock twitches and jumps before letting loose the torrent of hot, thick semen. Eridreyn groans, deeply, enjoying the member emptying inside of her. And it just keeps coming, filling her completely, then dripping out around his softening cock on to the furs beneath them. 

When he finally slides out, Morketh watches with pleasure as her pussy drips with his seed for a few brief moments before lowering his face to lap it up.

Gasping with astonishment but holding her undignified position, Eridreyn shifts slightly to look back at Morketh. “What are you…?”

“There are few things in all of Draenor more delicious than the coupling of mates.” 

Eridreyn takes that statement at face value, allowing Morketh to ever-so-carefully clean her with his tongue. When he’s finished, she is shocked to find that she wishes to do the same for him. Gently holding his soft member, still impressive in size even when not aroused, she runs her dainty tongue over the entire length. 

“You see, little one?” Morketh asks, watching her with a smile on his face.

She merely nods, savoring the flavor of his seed mixed with the fluids of her arousal. When she is finished, Morketh gathers her in his arms, his broad biceps dwarfing her slender form. 

“I admit, Commander, this is not what I expected when I pledged my loyalty to your garrison. It is a pleasant surprise, however.”

“If we are being truthful, I was rather hoping you would do so. My garrison needs a good weaponsmith and flying all the way to Vol’jin’s Pride just to flirt would have been a terrible imposition on my time.” Eridreyn snuggles against the warm, hard orcish torso, loving the feeling of Morketh’s green-skinned muscles against her skin. 

“I do hope that this wasn’t an imposition on your time, Commander.” Morketh’s words are biting but a smile dances in his eyes. 

“Not at all. In fact, I think that we may have to meet again, under similar circumstances.”

“As you say, Commander.” Morketh nuzzles his tusks against the side of her face, a gesture that Eridreyn realizes is a kiss, since orcish mouths aren’t really built for puckering. “I must warn you, though, the other orcs will know you’ve lain with me. You’ll carry my scent for days.”


End file.
